


Fear Doesn't Know Love

by rebeccavis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccavis/pseuds/rebeccavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery Tyrell looks towards her future during the reign of King Stannis and finds it tied into that of Robb Stark, who is still trying to overcome his ghosts of the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apprehension

**Author's Note:**

  * For [margaerystark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaerystark/gifts).



> This was written as a birthday present for my best friend Rachel, who truly deserves nothing less than the world but I'm afraid this is the best that I can do. It's based partially on the Game of Thrones Lannister honeypot theory, a.k.a. one of the best/worst cases of accidental foreshadowing I've ever seen on television, so if you're a huge Talisa fan then maybe you might not be particularly interested. Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy it and comments would be very much appreciated. I'm planning on making this a six-part story, and though I can't make any promises I'm going to make an effort to try to update as often as I can :)

There were many qualities that the Stark family could be said to possess, but before she came to Winterfell Margaery Tyrell had never expected hosting excellent feasts to be one of them. While it was certainly true that they were not as extravagant as the feasts in Highgarden, or as plentiful the ones in King’s Landing, it seemed to her that House Stark won out when it came to ensuring their guests thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Today was King Robb Stark’s twenty-first nameday and it was no exception.

“Come dance with us, Your Grace!” a young Northern woman Margaery had not met before called out, beckoning to her king. Catelyn Stark was watching from the high table and looked mildly concerned by the young lady’s indelicate behavior, but Robb himself merely smiled and shook his head slightly. The ale had been flowing freely all evening, and the young woman who had called out to him was as red-faced as some of the men.

“You would be embarrassed to see me dance, Lady Wylla,” Robb called back, giving a gentle laugh. He turned his attention back to Margaery then, and appeared puzzled when she met his gaze with slightly raised eyebrows. “What does that look mean, pray tell me?” he questioned.

“It means you are being far too modest, Your Grace,” Margaery told him, “You’re a perfectly good dancer.”

“Barely adequate, I think you mean,” Robb countered, causing Margaery to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing. She watched as he turned his head to look down the table, and it was only then that she realised that quite a few people were staring at her and their king, or perhaps at the two of them sat side by side. Robb’s seat at the high table had been abandoned for most of the celebrations, having been forgone for a seat next to Margaery at a table she was sharing with some of her family members. Robb seemed far more at ease where he was now, although it appeared as though more than a few people found it passing strange that he was not in his usual seat.

“Do you think your parents and brothers are having a good time?” Robb asked his companion, having spotted Mace, Alerie, Ser Garlan and Ser Loras Tyrell on the far end of the table, “They seem to be enjoying the food at least.”

“I’m sure they are,” Margaery answered, “I think they’re finding it a little bit different to what they are accustomed to, but not in a bad way. And what of you, Your Grace? Are you enjoying your nameday celebrations?”

“Well…yes, but in truth I always feel a little bit embarrassed on these types of occasions,” Robb admitted, “It’s as though I don’t know what to do with myself.” He paused for a moment, his gaze temporarily dropping to the table below him. “Margaery…are you going home with your family when they leave tomorrow?” he asked, his voice quiet enough that Margaery had to lean forwards to hear him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Your Grace,” Margaery answered, looking mildly surprised, “Not unless you wish me to leave.”

“No,” Robb said immediately, “No, of course not. I merely wouldn’t want you to…surely you must wish to go back home to Highgarden and the life you have there. I wouldn’t want you to stay here against your own wishes.”

“My life is here in the North now,” Margaery affirmed, giving Robb a smile which she was pleased to see him return. It vanished from his face almost as quickly as it had appeared, however, and Margaery felt not for the first time that there was something else her companion wanted to say but for some reason couldn’t bring himself to. She didn’t like to press him, however, particularly during moments such as these where his eyes briefly gave away that his thoughts were lost in the past. “So, Your Grace,” she addressed him instead, “You said you were unsure of what to do with yourself on occasions such as these? I believe that traditionally on his nameday a man should drink, and eat, and enjoy himself…and dance. He should most definitely dance.”

“Is that so?” Robb questioned, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips again, “Would you like to dance, then, Lady Margaery?”

“I would love to, Your Grace,” Margaery answered, upon which Robb stood to his feet and offered her a hand.

Those who hadn’t been staring before were most definitely staring as Margaery made her way to the centre of the Great Hall of Winterfell with their king, but neither of them cared enough to pay them any mind. They took their respective places as the next piece of music started and Robb complimented Margaery on her white gown embroidered in green, to which she smiled and bowed her head in thanks. The two of them kept an appropriate, respectable distance between them as they danced but their eyes told a different story, their gazes never leaving each others’ faces for a moment even when the steps called for them to temporarily change partners. Once or twice Robb’s hand brushed against Margaery’s hip and once or twice she leant her weight against his chest and once or twice she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Happy nameday, Your Grace. May there be many, many more to come,” Margaery told Robb softly while they danced, and the smile he gave her would stay with her for the rest of the night.

* * *

It was late by the time Margaery went to bed that evening, and even later by the time she found herself still lying in her bed with eyes wide open, thinking of one person and one person alone. In truth, he had been on her mind for a long time, particularly since the day he had told her he would be inviting her family to visit Winterfell at their earliest convenience. It wasn’t the first night she had lain awake thinking of Robb Stark, and she felt fairly certain it wouldn’t be the last. He permeated her thoughts in such a manner that when she heard a knock at the door to her chambers, some irrational part of her had the smallest bit of hope that it might be him.

“Gods, Garlan, you startled me,” Margaery informed her older brother when it turned out to be him standing on the other side of the door. She pulled at the sash on her robe, tightening it around her waist and beckoning him to come in.

“Sorry,” Garlan apologised as he stepped inside, “You weren’t asleep, were you? I was planning on coming earlier, but King Robb wanted to speak to me and to Father.”

“He did?” Margaery questioned, her interest piqued immediately, “What did he wish to say?”

“He didn’t ask for your hand, Margaery. I’m sorry,” Garlan said, his expression sympathetic “I know you had been hoping…”

“Well, it’ll only be a matter of time, I’m sure,” Margaery affirmed, “You saw tonight with your very own eyes…”

“Yes, I saw how he favours you and so did everyone else, but Father is worried that this will all amount to nothing, and I’m inclined to agree with him,” Garlan admitted, giving a heavy sigh, “King Robb is under a lot of pressure from the Northern lords to choose one of their daughters for his wife, Margaery. Father thinks that the best thing for you to do is to come home with us so he and Willas can find another husband for you.”

“Such as whom? Robb Stark is the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms aside from King Stannis, and if Father wants him to agree to cast his wife aside and marry me then I wish him nothing but the best of luck. Even Cersei Lannister was clever enough to know that trying to seduce Stannis Baratheon would be futile,” Margaery pointed out, shaking her head vehemently, “Robb…King Robb most likely simply isn’t ready to take another wife yet. Would you be so soon after finding out your own wife had betrayed you the way his did?”

“I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for him,” Garlan admitted, “But the fact of the matter is that he knows just as well as you or I do that the North and the Starks desperately need an heir. He may have to wed soon out of sheer necessity and then what of you, Margaery? Do you expect to stay here and dine with him and dance with him and have intimate conversations with him when he is married with a child on the way? Father is even wondering if King Robb wishes to keep you here as his future mistress.”

“I know Robb. He would never ask that of me,” Margaery stated firmly, “He isn’t capable of such a thing.”

“Well, his father was perfectly capable of fathering a bastard son to bring home to his wife while she carried his trueborn child,” Garlan pointed out only to have Margaery narrow her gaze at him. He gave another heavy sigh then, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. “Sister, I do think King Robb seems to be a good man, and there’s no doubt that he’s powerful as you say. I just think Father is worried that he is no longer a viable option.”

“Father wants me to be a queen, does he not?” Margaery countered, “Unless he plans to have Queen Selyse killed anytime soon this is the only way, and you can tell him I said as much. Robb is going to need time, but I’m going to stay right here until that time comes.”

“Fine. I’ll tell him. He won’t be happy about it, but I’ll tell him,” Garlan promised, giving a solemn nod of his head, “Try to get some sleep, sister. I’ll see you in the morning to say goodbye before we set off back home.”

Margaery reached forwards to envelope her brother in a hug and bid him good night in return, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. She felt bad as bad lying to him as she did to any member of her family, but she knew making her father believe she was only interested in Robb Stark as a potential powerful Tyrell ally was the only way he would allow her to continue staying in Winterfell as she had been for the past few moons.

The predicament she found herself in was her own doing, she was well aware of that. When her brother had left and she had returned to lying on top of her sheets, her mind was again filled with the image of an auburn-haired, blue-eyed young king who made her heart beat a bit faster when he smiled. He had a weary look to him sometimes when his eyes betrayed all that he had been through despite having only twenty-one years to his name, but he had a good heart and there wasn’t a single person whom Margaery had seen him treat with anything less than courtesy and respect. They often went for walks together and she had shared many intimate details of her life with him that she had never shared with others, yet she couldn’t help but want to be even closer to him than she was already. Above anything else, she wanted him to find happiness, however that was possible for a man who had lost his father and been betrayed by the woman he’d loved. She knew deep down that she would stay as long as he wanted her to, even if Robb didn’t feel for her as she did for him, even if he did but wed another. It was that thought, perhaps, that scared her more than anything else.

“You saved my life, Margaery Tyrell,” he had told her once. Her only wish was that she could have spared him the pain of what he had discovered as a result.


	2. Suspicion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your positive responses so far! I hope you enjoy this second chapter just as much, and I would love it if you took a moment to leave a comment.

" _House Reyne was a very powerful family, very wealthy – the second wealthiest in Westeros. Aren't the Tyrells the second wealthiest family in Westeros now?"_

On the day of Sansa Stark's wedding to Tyrion Lannister, Margaery Tyrell had made a decision. Queen Cersei's words had echoed in her mind all throughout the ceremony and the feast afterwards, and on the following day Margaery had recounted them to her grandmother when they had been having tea with the jester Butterbumps singing loudly in the background. "Slaughtered," Cersei had said of the extinct Westerlands house she had compared to House Tyrell, "Every man, woman and child put to the sword." Margaery had been very glad when Lady Olenna had agreed with her that such a thinly veiled threat should not be taken lightly.

"Lord Tywin seems to write a great many letters," Olenna had told Margaery, "Perhaps it is time we found out who exactly he is so fond of."

The plan was simple enough in its conception if less so in its execution. It was decided that the best way of gaining access to Lord Tywin's correspondence would be through the castle's ravens, and the best way of gaining access to those was through the Grand Maester. Both Margaery and Olenna knew better than to trust Grand Maester Pycelle whose loyalty to the Lannisters had always been evident, but recently another Maester had been sent to King's Landing from the Citadel. Maester Gormon had originally been intended to be Pycelle's replacement when Lord Tyrion had thrown the latter in the black cells, but Lord Tywin had made sure to release Pycelle when he had discovered the new Master's family origins: Gormon was in fact an uncle of Margaery's father, Mace Tyrell. Gormon had since remained in King's Landing on the pretext of aiding Pycelle with his duties, although Margaery happened to know from conversations with her relatives in the castle that Pycelle was very reluctant to let Gormon do anything. She also happened to know that ever since returning to his post, Grand Maester Pycelle had been very keen on staying in the Lannister family's good books.

"The Grand Maester's knee is so sore that it pains him even to walk, let alone climb up to the rookery," Maester Gormon explained to Olenna and Margaery one evening in the older woman's chambers. Earlier that day Lady Olenna had given one of the servants special instructions for scrubbing the floors, and it had led to a minor accident just outside the Grand Master's rooms.

"How unfortunate for him," Olenna remarked, shaking her head slightly, "So I take it he has no choice now but to let you take care of the ravens."

"Yes, my lady," Maester Gormon answered, a small smile crossing his features, "Although he has asked me to keep the information to myself. He believes he will be better in no time."

"We shall see about that," Olenna commented, "In the meantime, Maester, I'm sure you won't mind letting Margaery accompany you on a few occasions when you're tending to the birds. She believes it might be a good idea to get to know the family she is marrying into a little better, and I'm inclined to agree with her." The Maester hesitated to answer, and for a moment Margaery felt a small knot tying in her stomach. When he turned to look at her, she tried to give him the warmest smile she could muster.

"That won't be a problem, my lady," Gormon eventually said, "But I would only advise Lady Margaery to not wear anything she does not wish to be spoiled. The rookery is also the ravens' privy tower, unfortunately."

"Your lady mother most likely spent a good portion of her life cleaning you and your brothers up before you learnt how to use a privy. Women have to deal with far more shit than men, Maester," Olenna pointed out, "I'm sure Margaery will be fine. It'll be good practice for her."

Margaery found herself thinking back to her grandmother's words when she was sat on a wooden stool with ravens flocking above her head, looking up every so often to do her best to avoid receiving an unwanted present from any of them. Her oldest brother Willas bred hawks among other animals and she had visited his aviaries often enough for the smell not to bother her, but on those occasions she hadn't had to worry about hastily trying to read letters whilst also doing her best not to get rained on by the animals. She could definitely handle shit if she had to, but she suspected Lord Tywin might not be best pleased to see any of his letters covered in it.

Most of the correspondence that arrived for Tywin Lannister was, Margaery soon discovered, rather uninteresting. He was still commanding his armies in the Riverlands and much of what Margaery read were letters from them with information of their current status and their plans, which currently seemed to consist of simply staying put. The Young Wolf Robb Stark had gone quiet for the timebeing, it appeared, but there were rumours he was trying to recruit more soldiers for his army. Besides the war-related letters, many of which came from Lannister relatives, there were a few more from other members of the house, a couple of which were asking for money and another which rambled on about trivial matters to such an extent that Margaery ended up putting it down about halfway through reading it. Ultimately, there were only two letters which caught her eye: one signed by Lord Walder Frey of the Crossing, and another written in an entirely different language.

"How is your High Valyrian, Maester?" Margaery asked her companion, who was busy feeding the ravens who had returned, "I learnt when I was younger, but I'm afraid I'm terribly out of practice. ' _Dārys_ ' means 'kingdom', does it not?"

"Close, but not quite. It means 'king', my lady," Maester Gormon replied, glancing over to where Margaery was engrossed in her letter. She looked up to thank him then returned to her slow translation, her brow furrowed slightly in concentration as she muttered the words under her breath.

The letter written in High Valyrian, Margaery soon discovered, was from yet another Lannister relative, but this one seemed to be in a very different predicament to the others. It had taken Maester Gormon's translation for Margaery to believe that the woman who had written the letter truly was speaking of her marriage to the 'King in the North', and it had left her at a complete loss. It made absolutely no sense to her for any relative of Tywin's to be wed to the young man he was currently at war with, yet as Margaery continued to read every word only confirmed it. The woman had also sent a second, smaller letter in Valyrian together with the one Margaery was reading, and there was a request in the longer one for it to be given to her mother.

_…the arms of a husband I never…wanted? Expected?_ Margaery read the second letter slowly and silently, feeling her heartbeat start to quicken in her chest, _They say he is a king and of my…_ _prūmia? Heart. Of my heart that is true. He holds me…he holds us safe, because now I am two, with his child under the heart that beats for him. The war…continues but soon, when it is all over, we shall come to you and celebrate together._

_She is with child_ , Margaery realised, immediately feeling for the woman who had signed her name as 'Talisa'. It certainly explained why her letter to Tywin had a very strange tone to it as she urged him to reach some kind of peace with the King in the North whilst at the same time being extraordinarily respectful. _Robb Stark must have met this Talisa during his travels_ , Margaery concluded, _They must have fallen for each other, and married…and now she is trying to return to Lord Tywin's favour._ Margaery could only imagine what it must be like to be in this woman's shoes, and she was certain she did not envy her.

The other letter that piqued Margaery's interest was the one Margaery read next, and despite Lord Walder Frey's horrific handwriting this one was thankfully far easier to read as it was written in the Common Tongue. She had selected it because she thought it rather unexpected that a family known to historically have been allied with House Tully would be writing to Tywin Lannister, but then again she had heard that Lord Walder was more often than not loyal to whoever suited his best interests. The letter started off with the expected greetings and best wishes to Tywin's family, but as she read on Margaery felt as if a hand was slowly clasping around her neck, closer and closer to choking her. By the time she had finished, her breathing had become shallow and her face was so pale that Maester Gormon looked alarmed when he turned to glance at her and he quickly ran to her side.

"My lady?" Gormon questioned, "Is everything all right?"

Margaery nodded her head. "You can take these letters to Lord Tywin, Maester," she stated, trying her best to calm her breathing, "Thank you for your assistance."

* * *

"Lord Walder is going to _slaughter_ them, Grandmother. Men, women and children, just as Lord Tywin did to House Reyne," Margaery exclaimed, "As soon as the wedding ceremony at the Twins has been carried out he is going to kill each and every one of them."

"Keep your voice down, Margaery," Olenna urged in a hushed tone. She and her granddaughter had ridden out to the edge of the Kingswood so that they could speak in private, but the older woman was still well aware that there could be ears even where they were. "Are you certain?" Olenna asked, "Lord Walder is a truly foolish man if he means to break guest right."

"It was clear as day in the letter I read. Since Lord Tywin cannot defeat Robb Stark on the battlefield, he seems to believe this is the only way," Margaery said before stating, "We have to warn the Northern armies. If not for their sake then we must do it for ours."

"Give me a moment to think about this," Olenna said, frowning slightly, "As vile and gruesome an act as this would be, perhaps it could be to our advantage. It would eliminate the threat of a Northern army ever reaching King's Landing."

"But it would also make the Lannisters untouchable," Margaery protested, "If they find they are able to successfully use such methods to dispose of their enemies, what is to stop them from doing the same to us?"

"They need us," Olenna affirmed, but her wrinkles around her eyes grew deeper as she narrowed them slightly.

"For how long?" Margaery questioned, "At the moment they need our armies but soon enough all they will need is our wealth to pay their debts. Once I've had children what's to stop them from getting rid of us to seat one of my sons in Willas's place? The Tyrell name could be lost forever."

"What if by warning the Northerners all you're doing is sparing an army and an army commander who might invade and take over the city?" Olenna questioned, "There won't be much left of House Tyrell either should that turn out to be the case."

"Yes, there will. If Robb Stark knows we aided him then he will be sure to pardon us. Perhaps he'd even be willing to arrange some marriages between our family and his," Margaery pointed out, "Or, as is far more likely, if he isn't killed at the wedding then Lord Tywin will need to call upon more of our armies to defeat him in battle. The Lannisters will still need us, which is exactly what we want, is it not?"

Olenna fell silent for a few moments then, her mouth twisting in thought. She inhaled and exhaled loudly a few times until finally she shook her head. "I've taught you far too well," she concluded, "Fine, child. Warn the Young Wolf if you must. I hope he is astute enough to believe you."

"He'll have no choice but to believe me," Margaery affirmed, brushing a stray strand of hair that had been blowing in the wind out of her face, "I'm going to send him Lord Tywin's reply to Lord Walder, written in the man's very own hand."


	3. Reverence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all as ever for your lovely feedback! You may be interested to know that I've decided to make this fic seven chapters long instead of six, so you still have another four chapters to go. I hope you enjoy this new one!

“I thought I might find you here.”

His mother’s gentle voice made Robb Stark look up from where he was lying on his stomach on the reeds that covered the floor, his right hand clasped around a wooden knight. Rickon Stark, naturally, seized the opportunity as soon as his older brother was distracted and made his own toy knight charge straight at his opponent, fully prepared to show him no mercy. “STARK! WINTERFELL!” the nine-year-old boy shouted, “You’re dead, you awful Lannister knight!”

“Since when am I a Lannister knight?” Robb wondered aloud, but Rickon paid him no mind.

“It doesn’t matter what you are. You’re dead, anyway. I win,” Rickon affirmed, then asking, “Can we play something else now? Wooden knights aren’t as fun as pretending to be real knights.”

“I think Robb has some matters he needs to attend to, sweetling,” Catelyn spoke up, “Would you like to go outside and play in the snow? Most of the boys and girls who came for Robb’s nameday are still here.”

“Aye, Mother,” Rickon answered enthusiastically, “I love the snow.”

“Then go to your chambers and get yourself ready,” Catelyn instructed, “I’ll be along in a minute to check if you’re wearing your gloves and your furs.”

Rickon didn’t hesitate in giving his mother a nod and he ran over towards the door without even glancing back at his brother. “Bye, Robb!” he called out as an afterthought, and Robb shook his head with a small smile.

“I forget sometimes that he’s almost ten,” Robb admitted quietly, “I keep thinking he’s just an infant.”

The look that appeared on Catelyn’s face then was one Robb took an immediate disliking to, although it was one he had seen several times before. His mother was generally good at not saying anything to make him think she pitied him, but there were times when her eyes betrayed her. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him recently,” Catelyn noted.

“He’s my brother. I missed him during the war, just as I missed Sansa and Arya and Bran,” Robb pointed out, even though he knew what his mother would say to that if she dared to voice her thoughts. He knew he spent far more time with Rickon than he did with his other siblings, sometimes playing with him all afternoon. When darkness fell upon the castle at night, Robb would sometimes squint and not see Rickon at all but a younger, dark-eyed boy named Eddard, and he would realise then that he desperately needed to retire to his chambers.

“I came to tell you there are some lords waiting for an audience with you in the Great Hall,” Catelyn explained after nodding solemnly at Robb’s words, “I believe they wish to discuss the possibility of you taking one of their daughters as your queen.”

“Seven hells,” Robb muttered, rising to his feet and brushing off his clothes, “I did not invite them to my nameday celebrations _just_ so I could choose my future wife among their daughters.”

“But they rightly assumed that was at least part of the reason,” Catelyn pointed out, “I think you should speak to them at the very least, Robb. They are mostly Northern lords but I believe Lords Mace and Garlan Tyrell are present as well.”

Robb raised his eyebrows then, his interest piqued. “I thought they were due to leave early in the morning,” he remarked.

“The heavy snow delayed them, I believe,” Catelyn explained, a hint of a smile on her face, “I think Lady Margaery’s father and brother deserve a few moments of your time, do they not?”

“Aye, of course,” Robb answered, “Thank you, Mother. I’ll see you at supper.”

Catelyn directed her smile at Robb and he gave her one in return as he left, making his way through Winterfell’s dark halls which radiated warmth despite the bitter cold outside. After his mother’s mention of her, Robb found himself wondering what Margaery was doing and he made a mental note to seek her out later and see if she wanted to go for a walk outside in the snow. He still remembered the day a few moons ago when she had seen snow for the very first time, and the memory of her giddy smile made him briefly grin to himself.

“My lords,” Robb greeted the men who were assembled in the Great Hall, “I hope you are all faring well.” He took a seat at the High Table, his eyes on the small congregation gathered below him.

“We could be faring far better, Your Grace,” Lord Greatjon Umber was the first to speak up in his booming voice, “We had hoped you might be asking to speak to one of us in private soon.”

“I think what Lord Umber is trying to say, Your Grace,” Lord Wylis Manderly amended, “is that we would very much like to know if you have considered any of our daughters for the honor of helping carry on the Stark family name.”

“My sister was enchanted by you, Your Grace,” Lord Robin Flint said, “She is in good health and has good hips as well. I would venture she’d be able to give birth to many Stark heirs.”

“My daughter is a typical Northern beauty, Your Grace. I’m certain you would find her very agreeable,” Brandon Norrey ventured, “I am not, however, certain what these Southron lords are doing here trying to convince the king to take on used goods. Remind me again how many times Lady Margaery has been wed to our enemies?”

“Lady Margaery is a kind, clever and extremely pleasant lady, Lord Norrey,” Robb said, his voice stern, “You’ll do yourself no favours insulting her in front of me.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Mace Tyrell spoke up, “You must know my Margaery is very fond of you. I’m certain it would fill her heart with joy if you two were to be married.”

Robb felt his breath hitch in his throat momentarily at Margaery’s father’s words. It definitely wasn’t the first time he had considered the possibility of marrying her and the thought made him feel happy beyond belief, but every time he pondered the subject dread came immediately after the feeling of excitement. In years since Talisa had been gone, he had learnt to live in the dark, even love it to a certain extent. He thought of Margaery after a few years of being wed to him, her delightful smiles and musical laughter replaced with a stern face and frustrated tears, and he knew he could never condemn her to such a fate.

“I am very fond of her as well,” Robb told Mace Tyrell softly before addressing the others, “My lords, I understand your concern and your daughters are all wonderful, but the truth is I am in no position to consider taking a wife at present. I will, however, take everything you have said into consideration and I will inform you in due course when I make my decision.”

“What do you mean ‘in no position’? If you should die who will take your place, Your Grace?” Cregan Karstark questioned, “Your younger brother who cannot even move around without assistance? Your other brother, who is still only a child? You need an heir. Alys is young and can give you many, and goodness knows you owe my family a great deal after what you did to my brother.”

“Lord Rickard committed treason, Lord Cregan,” Robb pointed out, having to raise his voice over the lords who had started squabbling, “I treated him justly.”

“Calm down, lads. Perhaps we should go easier on his grace,” Greatjon boomed, “It can’t have been easy to behead his own lady wife, after all.”

Silence fell upon the Great Hall then, with nobody looking as if they quite knew where to look or what to say. Robb himself was stricken, his hands on the High Table bunching into fists as he surveyed the men before him. They didn’t know the truth, of course, but he was hardly about to correct them. His rule depended at least partially on them never finding out.

“I have already said all I needed to say on the matter. I know I must take a wife and I will, but I will ensure that this time I do not make any rash decisions,” Robb affirmed, “As the Greatjon just reminded us all, last time I did, we almost lost a war. I will not make such a foolish mistake again.”

Robb Stark didn’t look back as he stood to his feet and left the Great Hall, leaving the lords to resume their arguments behind him.

* * *

“I’m so glad you invited me for a walk, Your Grace. Winterfell is beautiful in the snow,” Margaery admitted, giving Robb a smile. She threaded her arm through his, and only smiled wider when his face turned slightly red. After he’d found her in her chambers the two of them had gone on an excursion around the castle grounds, winding up as they often did in the godswood. Robb remembered having told Margaery it was his favourite place in the world, and he remembered her admitting to him that it was quickly becoming one of hers as well.

“Well, I wanted to speak to you,” Robb explained, unable to help but smile at her in return, “And I enjoy your company, of course.”

“As I enjoy yours,” Margaery said immediately, “What did you wish to speak to me about, Your Grace? I hope nothing has upset you recently.”

“No…well, not exactly,” Robb lied, “But it is rather a serious matter, I’m afraid.”

“Your matters are always so serious. I wish you didn’t have so much plaguing you,” Margaery remarked, stopping to turn and look up at him, “Share your burdens with me, Your Grace. I would be more than happy to do anything I can to help.”

“Lady Margaery…” Robb began, and he found himself unable to finish. An unpleasant twisting sensation pinched in his stomach, and he wished more than anything that he didn’t have to say what he needed to say next. “I think you ought to go back to Highgarden with your father and your brother,” he told her softly. He saw the colour drain from her face and all he could think was that he hated himself.

“What?” Margaery said, her voice barely above a whisper, “But yesterday, you…you asked me if I was going and you told me you did not wish me to leave.”

“I…I changed my mind,” Robb affirmed, doing his best to keep his voice unwavering, “You told me you would not go unless I wanted you to, and I have considered it and it is what I want. I…I will most likely be marrying soon, and I cannot have a beautiful young lady living in the castle and keeping company with me. My future wife might not approve.”

Robb watched as Margaery’s eyes filled with tears and wanted desperately to wrap her in an embrace, but he knew he had to remain as cold and resolute as possible. She remained steadfast for her part, seemingly refusing to let her tears spill down her cheeks. “I thought…” she breathed, then shook her head, “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I should go see to my things, then, so I can leave on the morrow. I…I hope your future wife makes you happy, Your Grace, I truly do.”

_I don’t know if she can_ , Robb thought to himself. He had a feeling he was condemned to doubt and mistrust for the rest of his life, and it would have nothing to do with whom he married and everything to do with him. He had learnt to live with his wife and he had learnt to live alone. He wasn’t certain he could learn to live all over again, and Margaery deserved so much more than the life he could give her.

“Thank you,” Robb answered Margaery softly before offering, “Let me walk you back to your chambers.”

“There’s no need,” Margaery affirmed. She turned her back on him and Robb watched her leave, hoping he was just imagining it when he thought he saw her shoulders shake with sobs.


	4. Discomposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks, as always, for your likes and especially your reviews. The story is just over the halfway mark now, and this middle chapter turned out to be a bit longer as you'll see because I had quite a lot to fit in. I hope you enjoy it!

“Your Grace?” Maester Vyman’s voice said, abruptly puncturing Robb’s thoughts, “Is something the matter?”

“No, nothing. Thank you for your concern, Maester,” Robb hastily answered the man who’d caught him standing in the corridor, “I would just like to know how my…how the queen is faring.”

“The queen is recovering, Your Grace. Slowly but surely,” Maester Vyman affirmed, “You may see her if you wish.”

Robb nodded slowly, although he still didn’t move. If he were to be honest with himself, he felt afraid to take a step forwards and open the door to his wife’s chambers, since he knew that once he did everything would change. Everything already _had_ changed, he was well aware of that, but there was a part of him that longed to linger in the past just a few moments more and hold the untainted image of the woman he’d loved in his mind.

“I am so very sorry about the baby, Your Grace,” Maester Vyman spoke up again, his voice quiet, “I wish there was more I could have done.”

Robb wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that statement. “Thank you,” he muttered, right before he ventured forwards and finally entered the room.

Talisa Maegyr was lying curled over to one side in her bed, her expression seeming to convey both sadness and frustration. When Robb’s eyes fell on her he thought back to the first time they’d met, when she’d looked at him with defiance, but now her gaze when she turned towards him was filled with fear. He saw her register the bloodstains on his clothing, the bandage around his neck, the cut on his cheek, and all of a sudden she sat up, looking overcome with worry. Regardless of what he now knew, he found it hard to believe she could be pretending.

“What happened?” Talisa breathed.

“It was an ambush. Just as the letter said,” Robb told her, “Walder Frey planned on killing us all, I think…he probably would have done had we not been armed and prepared.”

Talisa closed her eyes momentarily and swallowed. “And now I imagine you think I played a part in all of this,” she said.

“I don’t know what to think,” Robb admitted, “I have been thinking on it the entire journey from the Twins here to Riverrun, and I still can’t make head or tail of it. Then when I arrived they told me…they told me about the baby.”

Talisa stared resolutely down at her bedding. “You must be relieved,” she remarked, “Now that I’m no longer pregnant there’s nothing tying you to me. You can do with me as you see fit.”

“I thought you knew me better than that,” Robb said, his brow furrowing as he felt a tightening in his chest, “I wanted our child as much as you did.”

“Even if our child would have been related to Tywin Lannister?” Talisa asked, looking back up at her husband.

Robb fell silent. Even though he’d already suspected it, even though the fateful letter he’d received on his way to the Twins had all but spelled it out, it didn’t make Talisa’s words any less painful to hear. “It’s true, then?” he asked, “You’re not from Volantis?”

“My mother is,” Talisa explained, “I…Maegyr is her family name. She’s of noble birth…not that Lord Tywin treats her as such.”

“Why did you lie to me?” Robb questioned, “I wouldn’t have thought any less of you for being related to the Lannisters. A person’s family doesn’t determine who they are.”

“Do you honestly think my father simply allowed me to leave our home and work as a nurse on the battlefields?” Talisa countered, “I had to lie to _everyone_ back then, not just to you. But then afterwards, when we…I wanted to tell you, but by then it was too late. I wouldn’t have been able to without telling you the rest of it. The truth of it is…our first meeting was by chance, Robb, but our second meeting wasn’t.”

“Come again?” Robb said, taking a few steps forwards.

“My father found me. Other Lannister soldiers who survived the battle saw you speaking to me, and…once Lord Tywin found out, he wrote to me,” Talisa continued, her eyes filling with tears then, “You have to understand, Robb…he is a very proud man and family reputation means more to him than anything. Lord Tywin had plans for my father, and when he went against his wishes and married my mother…Lord Tywin said our family had his forgiveness, but as soon as we arrived in Lannisport he seized my mother. I have no idea where is keeping her. I was not even allowed to contact her until...” The young queen’s eyelids fell closed, the tears spilling down onto her cheeks. “Lord Tywin said that if I could convince you to break the promise you made to Walder Frey, then he would forward any letters I sent him to my mother. He said in due time he would even let me see her.”

Robb was stunned into silence again and he found himself frozen to the spot, his mind spinning from all the information he’d just received. As much as he understood that Talisa had found herself in an impossible situation, he couldn’t shake the feeling of anger despite himself. When he had felt betrayed by Theon and betrayed by his mother, Talisa had been his comfort and the one person he felt as though he could rely on to be honest with him, yet it turned out that even she had been keeping parts of her life secret from him the whole time. He wanted to ask her a thousand questions, some far more bitter and resentful than others, but he managed to find it in himself to only ask the one that mattered.

“Did you ever grow to care for me?” Robb said softly.

“I was carrying your child, Robb. What do you think?” Talisa answered, looking her husband directly in the eyes, “The last letter I sent to Tywin was begging him to end this war. I was trying to convince him to sue for peace, and I told him if he did I could help convince you to do the same. I had no idea he was planning to…”

“I think perhaps murdering you and the baby may have been part of the plan as well. I wouldn’t put it past him,” Robb gently interrupted, “This wedding would have solved a lot of problems for him if we hadn’t been forewarned.”

Having been standing the entire time since he’d entered the room, Robb looked around and finally took a seat by Talisa’s bed, sinking heavily into the chair as he stared at the wall. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he admitted, “I lost many good men at the wedding. We managed to escape with Roslin Frey – Roslin Tully, actually – as a hostage, but the poor girl is so shaken up…and I doubt Walder Frey cares much for her when he already has a host of other daughters and sons.”

“You’re alive,” Talisa pointed out, “We could…we could go across the Narrow Sea to my family in Volantis. We could escape this place and live the rest of our lives happy and at peace.”

Robb looked at his wife incredulously for a moment before he shook his head. “Talisa, I can’t…I can’t see you the way I once did. There’s a part of me that wishes I could, but I…I don’t trust you anymore,” he admitted softly, “You’ve been dishonest with me. Even our courtship, it was…I believe you that in the end it became real, but in the beginning you lied to me.”

“For my family, Robb,” Talisa told him, her voice strong despite her tears, “How many men have you killed for the sake of your family? How many more are you planning to kill? Can you honestly tell me if given the chance to go back you would have put down your sword as soon as you heard your father was dead? You can’t condemn me for loving my family as much as you love yours.”

“I thought _you_ were my family,” Robb replied, “I don’t think I can live every day looking at my wife and knowing she betrayed me.”

“You’re fortunate then that you’re a king,” Talisa remarked, her tone bitter, “It’ll be easy for you to rid yourself of me and find a new bride.”

“It’s not that simple. My men will want to know why I no longer have a wife,” Robb noted, “You’ll have committed treason in their eyes. Once they find out, they’ll want your head.”

“And you’re going to give it to them?” Talisa asked bluntly.

“I have to give them something,” Robb did his best to explain. His jaw clenched as he thought, finding himself unable to meet his wife’s eyes. “I’m going to place you under arrest while you recover,” he said eventually, “And I’ll decide what is to be done once you’re better.”

“So you’re going to wait until I’m better before you have me killed?” Talisa questioned, her tone defiant, “Will you get someone else to do it? Or are you planning on doing it yourself as you did with Lord Karstark?”

Robb rose from his seat all of a sudden, deciding he couldn’t stay in that room for another moment. He could hear Talisa calling out to him as he left the room but he didn’t want to listen to her, didn’t want to face up to her words, didn’t want to spend another moment thinking of how he had shared his life and his bed with her and there was so much she hadn’t shared with him. He carried on walking and walking as though he couldn’t stop, and it wasn’t until he was almost there that he even realised where he was heading.

They had told him upon his arrival that his child had been buried in a corner of the castle’s godswood and sure enough he found the tiny grave under the shade of the weirwood tree, marked by a medium-sized stone slab with the word “Stark” and the image of a direwolf engraved into it. Robb fell to his knees before the small mound of earth over which grass had already started to grow, and as he gazed at the gravestone he wondered what his son or daughter would have been like. He had been told it had been too early to tell very much about the child, but he still wondered if he or she would have looked more like him or Talisa, if she might have inherited her aunt Arya’s sense of mischief or if he would have been more serious like his grandfather Ned. Robb then wished he could stop himself from wondering, but it was to no avail. When he brought a hand up to his face, his fingers came away wet from his own tears.

* * *

The castle had been informed that Talisa Maegyr’s execution was to be a secluded, private affair. Robb had announced he was to follow the Old Ways of his ancestors and execute her by his own sword, which he could see astonished his Southron men and even some of his Northern men, although many of them expressed their approval nonetheless. It was actually the first time in a long time that they seemed united behind something, Robb had thought to himself bitterly, though his face had betrayed nothing. He knew he had to be stalwart in front of his men, and thus the only emotion he had expressed was gratitude when they appeared to understand why he didn’t want them present when he was to behead Talisa. The date had been decided on very quickly, and before he knew it Robb had woken up on what was due to be his wife’s last day to live.

He had asked his mother to wake Talisa up and instruct her to dress, and it was Lady Catelyn who escorted the young queen to the spot where Robb was awaiting her. Their only company was Patrek Mallister, a member of Robb’s personal guard, but he was soon dismissed after Robb assured him he was not needed.

“Lady Talisa,” Robb spoke up, facing his wife, “Is there anything you wish to say?”

“Only that which you already know, Your Grace,” Talisa answered him, “That the only crime I committed was being born to a mother whom my father was not supposed to marry. She and I are rather alike that way, I suppose, but I have no regrets…and if I am to die, I will die with dignity.”

Robb gave a small nod and then turned to glance over his shoulder as he heard the sound of footsteps. While Talisa looked on with a confused expression, Dacey Mormont came into view carrying the dead body of a young man who had recently died in the dungeons. She placed him on the scaffold that had been set up for the queen, his head positioned so that his neck was exposed. Once the body was in place, Robb stepped forwards and pressed a small purse full of coins into Talisa’s hand.

“My mother will take you and Lady Dacey as far as the castle gates, then the two of you will be on your own. Lady Dacey has instructions to take you to Saltpans, where you can board a ship to wherever you wish. Across the Narrow Sea to your family in Volantis, maybe” Robb said under his breath, “Goodbye, Lady Talisa.”

“Robb…” Talisa began, but Robb soon cut her off.

“Goodbye, Lady Talisa,” he repeated, then turning to his mother and taking her hand, “Thank you, Mother.” He pressed a kiss to Catelyn’s forehead, and when he pulled away she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“We should go,” Catelyn affirmed quietly, beckoning to both her companions, “Come.”

While Catelyn Stark helped two cloaked figures make their way out of Riverrun, Robb stood before a corpse he was about to behead, the point of his sword thrust into the earth. His words rang out loud and clear, his voice unwavering, and he tried his best to make them loud enough for the entire castle to hear.

“Talisa Maegyr, Queen in the North, here in sight of gods and men I sentence you to die.”


	5. Emotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you who took the time to read and like/comment on this story so far! It's always very much appreciated, and I really hope you'll like this chapter.

Robb Stark was aware that to any onlooker he probably looked rather ridiculous as he paced outside Margaery Tyrell’s chambers late at night. He took one step forwards, then a step backwards, then had to take another step forwards to finally extend his arm and knock on the door before him, hoping she would still be awake. Though he’d been quick to make the decision to come speak to Margaery, now that he was actually at her door Robb was suddenly filled with self-doubt, wondering if he should have come or if she’d even want to see him after everything that had happened. It was late at night and she had a long journey ahead of her in the morning, so it was perfectly reasonable to assume she’d be resting and it would be rude to rouse her from her sleep. Nonetheless, he felt as though he simply had to speak to her once more before she left Winterfell for what would most likely be forever. He wasn’t entirely sure about what he was going to say, mind, but he hoped that would come to him when he saw her again.

“Your Grace?” Margaery’s voice said softly, pulling Robb out of his thoughts. He was surprised to find her stood before him in what looked like the dress she’d been wearing earlier in the day, and even more surprised when she gave him a small smile. “I…I was just on my way to ask if I might see you,” she admitted.

“You were?” Robb questioned, unable to help but smile himself, “I’m so relieved I didn’t wake you, my lady. I simply…I came to apologise for my behaviour before. I was unnecessarily rude to you and I should not have acted the way I did. I…I have so much admiration and respect for you, Lady Margaery. It would break my heart if you left here thinking any less of me.”

“I think more of you now,” Margaery told Robb earnestly, reaching for his hands, “And I’m glad you came to speak to me, for it would break my heart as well if we were to part on bad terms. I was planning on asking you if we might go for a walk together, Robb…Your Grace.”

Robb was for a moment slightly taken aback, finding himself taking Margaery’s hands and clasping them gently in his own before he even registered what he was doing. “You…you can call me Robb if you wish,” he said quietly.

“Thank you, Robb,” Margaery said, her smile growing, “And what of my suggestion? I thought we could go to the godswood.”

“I believe it’s raining outside, my lady,” Robb told her, “It’s late and it’ll be cold, besides. I wouldn’t want you to fall ill.”

“We’ll walk around the castle, then,” Margaery suggested, “Please, Robb. All I want is a chance to say goodbye to you properly.”

Robb hesitated briefly, but when Margaery looked at him with doe eyes and gave him the sweetest of smiles, he was only able to nod. He let go of her hands to offer up his arm to her, which she took eagerly just after shutting the door behind her. “I am truly sorry, my lady,” Robb said for good measure as they started on their way, “I feel terrible for having hurt you the way I did.”

“If I may call you Robb then you must call me Margaery. I insist,” Margaery affirmed. She ran her hand gently down Robb’s arm then and gave it a squeeze, reassuring him that he had her forgiveness. “Truthfully, I was surprised by how much it did hurt when you spoke to me as you did,” she confessed, turning to look at her companion as they walked, “I…I’ve been surprised a lot since I came here to Winterfell.”

“How so?” Robb asked.

“Well, I suppose I had grown accustomed to King’s Landing,” Margaery explained, “You stayed there for some time yourself…you know what it’s like.”

“I have some idea,” Robb said as he gave a small nod, “But my view of it may be tainted. It was a place my father despised…and also the place where he died.”

“Your reasons for disliking it are perfectly justified,” Margaery said in return, “I myself liked the city in some respects and abhorred it in others. In my view what stood out most of all was the fact that nobody was quite what they appeared to be…including me.”

“You? I can’t imagine you ever being anything but completely yourself, Margaery,” Robb admitted, giving her a smile.

“And that is one of the things that surprises me about you, Robb,” Margaery noted, “You always see the best in people…even after everything you’ve been through.”

“Aye, and look where it’s gotten me,” Robb pointed out, his smile quickly vanishing, “I really ought to have learnt by now that not everyone can be trusted. In fact, there are very few people who can be.”

“Is that why you asked me to leave?” Margaery asked, “Because you’re afraid of trusting me?”

Robb stopped in his tracks then, pausing by one of the windows and turning so he was face to face with Margaery. “No,” he said quietly, “That wasn’t why I asked you to leave.”

“Then why did you?” Margaery questioned, her tone gentle rather than accusing, “Robb, I feel as though you’ve always been honest with me but none of what you said to me earlier today sounded like it had any grain of truth to it. It sounded as though you were simply doing your best to drive me away.”

“It will be better for you if you leave, Margaery,” Robb insisted, “What kind of life could you have here?”

“A life with you, if it’s what you want,” Margaery answered, running her hand up Robb’s arm, “How could that be so terrible?”

“I think…I _know_ you’d be miserable here with me. You are so full of life and full of joy, and every time I see you smile I think my heart is going to burst. You don’t belong in a cold, dark place like Winterfell,” Robb told Margaery, his brow furrowing, “I didn’t ask you to leave because I don’t trust you, Margaery. I trust you completely. In fact, I think I love you, and that is why you can’t stay. I don’t trust _myself_ when I’m in love.”

“Robb…” Margaery said softly, both her hands moving up to cup his jaw. She ran her fingers over his beard, her touch gentle as her gaze met his.

“Margaery, the last time I fell in love, I made the worst mistake I’ve ever made,” Robb breathed, “I can’t risk doing that again, not when there is far more at stake than just my fate. If anything were to happen to you, if you were to live the rest of your days miserable because of…”

Margaery pressed her lips gently to Robb’s, and the remainder of his words died on his tongue. She pulled back ever so slightly, looking more nervous than Robb had ever seen her, but he felt her relax into a smile when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in to kiss her again.

Her lips were soft and her taste was sweet, and all Robb could think about was how much he’d been longing to kiss her and how good it felt to have her in his arms with her whole body pressed against his. Margaery’s lips parted so their kiss could deepen, and the small, contented sigh she gave against his mouth as his tongue slid over hers was enough to make his heart feel like it was beating in his ears. When they did eventually pull away, it felt as though it was far too soon. Robb glanced downwards briefly as Margaery’s head came to rest against his chest, and then raised his eyebrows as he felt her gently loosen the laces on his jerkin. Her hand slipped underneath the leather, finding the opening of his shirt and sliding under it to touch skin. Robb was slightly surprised by the tender gesture, but he welcomed it nonetheless.

“Gods. I’d never been in love, Robb,” Margaery admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, “Not until I met you.” Her fingers ran over the hair on his chest and she looked up at him, her eyes full of hope. “I felt like such a foolish little girl spending my days worrying if you felt the same way about me,” she added, “But I think the both of us are far from foolish. We’ve experienced things many who are older than us have not.”

“Aye, that we have,” Robb agreed, “You could never be called foolish, sweet Margaery. If you hadn’t been in King’s Landing when you were and if you hadn’t been as clever as you are…well, I know for a fact I wouldn’t be standing here today.”

“And you, Robb, ought to give yourself far more credit. You are not only a king by rights; you are the only king I have ever met worthy of his crown. You care for the men who fight with you and you care for your subjects and you care for your family and I know you cared for your wife,” Margaery told Robb assuredly, “If you didn’t then you wouldn’t have let her go.” When Robb swallowed and dropped his gaze to the floor, Margaery made him look her in the eyes again. “Robb, I’ve never regretted sending you that letter and I have never regretted leaving King’s Landing for a minute. The only thing I’m certain I would regret would be leaving you when I know we can be happy together.”

“I’m never happier than when I’m with you, Margaery. I would love for you to be my wife,” Robb admitted, “But I…truthfully, I’m afraid.”

“What could you possibly have to fear, my love?” Margaery asked him, “Your bannermen? They may grumble, but once they realise how many extra men my father can provide you with and once I give you Stark heirs they will no longer be able to complain. My parents and your lady mother will approve our match, of that much I’m certain. We are strong together, Robb, don’t you see? There is nothing to be afraid of if you and I are by each other’s sides.”

“You make everything sound so simple, Margaery,” Robb breathed, a small smile appearing on his face.

“No, it won’t be simple. I know you, Robb. I know there are many things that keep you up at night, and you know of the things that haunt me as well,” Margaery affirmed. She slid her hand out of his jerkin and moved it up, letting it run gently through the hair at the nape of his neck. “But I also know what an incredible man you are. I know you would be a good husband, and a good father,” she said softly, “And I hope you believe when I say I would be a good wife to you and a good mother to the children I know we’d have.”

“I have no doubt you would be,” Robb whispered back.

“You’ve always told me you hold my opinions in high regard. You just told me you love me and you trust me,” Margaery stated, “I trust you. If you do not trust yourself, does my opinion not count?”

“Of course it does,” Robb affirmed, “It’s just…”

Robb looked straight at Margaery, but for a few moments he wasn’t really seeing her. He saw the godswood in the summer, with his siblings playing and giggling in the sunshine. There were other children there, though, he realised: younger children, boys and girls, some red-haired and some brown-haired. They ran over to someone who looked very much like an older version of him, and they kissed his cheek and called him ‘papa’. Margaery held the smallest one in her arms, and she laughed when he said he wanted to be strong like his father. She looked over at Robb’s elder self with eyes filled with love, and he for his part looked just as besotted as he made his way over to kiss her. It was a vision of Robb’s future that he’d never really allowed himself to see and it was a powerful one, yet there was still a part of him that doubted it could ever become a reality.

“You’re leagues away, my love,” Margaery said gently, pulling him out of his thoughts. She lifted her head to press a kiss to his lips again which was just as loving as the last and filled him with warmth. “You know what I want and what I believe,” she said to him, “So it’s your move, Robb. What will it be?”


	6. Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as ever for your feedback! I've had quite a few reviews and comments lately, so I just wanted to give a special thanks to those of you who take your time to leave a few words. It really does mean so much to me. This fic only has one chapter left to go now and if all goes well I should be finishing it on Saturday to bring an end to Robbaery Week. If you don't know what I'm talking about, head on over to fuckyeahrobbmargaery on Tumblr and come join in the fun! Until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

On the night Stannis Baratheon had taken King’s Landing, Margaery Tyrell could not deny that she had been afraid. In the years that followed she wouldn’t be able to recall many of the details of that horrific night, but she would remember all too well how it had _felt_ to be holed up in Maegor’s Holdfast, clueless as to what was happening outside and not even knowing which side she wanted to win. All she had known for certain in that moment was that the women and children surrounding her were relying on her not to show her fear, and so she had remained stoic for them. She had been a queen then, wedded although not bedded to a king who was far more of a younger brother to her than a husband. Tommen Baratheon had been with her that night, as had his mother. It had ended up being their last night alive.

“According to your version of events, then, the usurper King Tommen and his traitorous mother drunk essence of nightshade?” Stannis’s voice echoed across the Throne Room in the Red Keep, “And it was given to them by former Grand Maester Pycelle?”

“That is what I believe, Your Grace,” Margaery answered, her head hanging modestly before her new king as he sat on the Iron Throne. It didn’t seem so long ago that she had been standing in that very same room following another battle, but back then the outcome for House Tyrell had been very different. “I am told the queen had almost used it once before,” she explained further, “If the rumours I heard are true, she procured it the last time your grace tried to invade the city. It seems she feared you even then.”

“I have no interest in rumours,” Stannis dismissed her gruffly, and Margaery pursed her lips. Before he had left Margaery’s father had made a few choice comments about how the newly crowned queen Selyse had yet to give Stannis an heir, but Margaery was beginning to sincerely doubt that she could even manage to strike up conversation with her king, let alone anything else. “I would not have harmed the boy,” Stannis continued after a pause, “He was not the one at fault.”

“I know. You have shown yourself to be nothing if not just, Your Grace,” Margaery affirmed, pressing her lips together before she she added, “I can still scarcely believe Cersei chose to poison little Tommen rather than let him surrender to you. He was such a sweet boy who never did anyone any harm. I had grown quite attached to him.”

“I have no interest in your feigned sadness, either, Lady Margaery. Need I remind you that if I had my way you and your whole family would be executed for treason,” Stannis noted, “You were very fortunate to escape as you did with no punishment at all.”

_Fortune had nothing to do with it_ , Margaery wanted to say, but outwardly she knew that she could of course only hang her head humbly. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said.

“You are dismissed,” Stannis told her, “Unless there is anything else you wish to say.”

“No, Your Grace,” Margaery answered, “I hope you have a good day.”

Margaery was quickly escorted out of the Throne Room and she smiled politely at the members of the Kinsguard she passed on her way out, a few of whom she knew well as they had once sworn to protect King Tommen. Her brother Loras was not among them, however, having been sent back to Highgarden along with the rest of her family in the days after Stannis had taken the Red Keep. In fact, Margaery suspected the only reason she was still in King’s Landing was because Stannis wanted to be absolutely certain she was not carrying a child from either Tommen or Joffrey, however unlikely that scenario was. She was also aware she could serve as a hostage should her father think to rebel, and the irony didn’t escape her that in some ways she was in the same position as her dear friend Sansa Stark had once been.

As she made her way into the courtyard, Margaery wondered if she might find Sansa outside enjoying the sunshine. The young woman was now one of her only friends in King’s Landing and she was immeasurably grateful for her presence, but she had also found herself rather surprisingly grateful that Sansa’s mother was also residing in the Red Keep. Catelyn had been kind from the beginning, and Margaery had started to get to know her quite well. The Stark that Margaery really found herself wanting to get to know better, however, was Robb. He was something of an enigma to her, very quiet and reserved, but on a couple of occasions she had managed to converse with him and found him to be not at all as she’d imagined. She had even once made him smile, and that image had lingered with her long after they had parted ways.

Unfortunately, neither Robb nor Sansa nor Catelyn appeared to be in the godswood or anywhere nearby at present, so Margaery continued her walk alone. She thought back to when the Red Keep had been full of her relatives, and of how much she missed having people to talk to. The Rose of Highgarden was what she had been called once, but what value did a rose have when nobody cared to see it bloom? When she reached the great oak in the centre of the godswood she decided to take a seat, and it was as she was sat contemplating what her own future held in store that she realised she did have company after all.

“By the gods,” Margaery breathed, her eyes on the huge animal that stood before her. He looked like a wolf only much larger, and she had heard him be called a beast several times. Many around the castle still referred to him as such, but Margaery could never see him that way. As he approached her she offered up her hand, and he took a sniff before promptly proceeding to lick her fingers.

“Grey Wind!” a voice Margaery recognised called out, and she looked up to see a worried-looking Robb Stark emerging from the trees surrounding her. “Sorry…good afternoon, my lady,” he said immediately upon seeing Margaery, “I hope he didn’t frighten you.”

“He startled me a little by appearing out of nowhere,” Margaery admitted with a small laugh, “But he didn’t frighten me, no. He couldn’t possibly. I owe him a great deal.”

“Grey Wind?” Robb said, raising an eyebrow, “Are you certain?”

“Well, I didn’t know his name then, but unless there is more than one direwolf in this castle then yes,” Margaery answered, running her hand gently over Grey Wind’s fur, “On the night King’s Landing was sacked, I…when the soldiers scaled the walls of Maegor’s Holdfast and we all scattered I was grabbed by one of the men who’d managed to get inside. I don’t know what would have happened if Grey Wind hadn’t appeared then.”

“I’m so sorry, my lady. I would make sure the man was hanged if I knew who he was,” Robb affirmed, “I expect Grey Wind took care of him, though.”

“He tore out his throat,” Margaery said, and when she glanced over at Robb she thought he looked the tiniest bit proud.

“He’s taken to you rather quickly,” Robb noted as Grey Wind nuzzled against Margaery’s hand, “I’ve been a bit worried about him as of late. He’s used to being in battle and he’s been restless since the fighting stopped.”

“I suppose everybody deals with the end of war in different ways,” Margaery remarked softly, “Your mother has been concerned about you as well, you know.”

“My mother is always concerned about me,” Robb noted, “Even though I ceased to be her young son a long time ago.”

“She tells me you were very different as a boy,” Margaery said, giving a smile which she was sad to see Robb didn’t return, “That you were always laughing and pulling pranks on your siblings.”

“That was a long time ago,” Robb remarked, his brow furrowing slightly before he added, “Anyway, I’d best leave you in peace, Lady Margaery.”

“You needn’t go,” Margaery urged him, “Not unless you are otherwise occupied, of course. I was surprised that I didn’t see you in the in the Throne Room today together with King Stannis.”

“You were in the Throne Room today?” Robb asked, “King Stannis was not accusing you of treachery again, I hope.”

“No, not this time,” Margaery assured him, “He merely wanted to know more about Queen Cersei and King Tommen’s deaths. I expect he is trying to make absolutely sure he is not blamed for them.”

Robb’s brow crinkled slightly. “King Stannis is…well, he is a very different man to me,” he admitted, “He has offered me a position on the Small Council but I don’t expect I’ll be taking it. My father didn’t fare well here in King’s Landing and I don’t expect I would, either. I’d much rather go home.”

“To Winterfell?” Margaery asked, blinking at him, “Well, it stands to reason. It is your rightful seat, after all.”

“Aye. And since I’ve no male heir…I really should have returned by now,” Robb said, shaking his head slightly, “But there have been some stumbling blocks in the negotiations with King Stannis. When our armies came together everything happened very quickly…we didn’t have time to make many decisions about what would happen after the war was won. My men in the North still want independence.”

“And I suppose Stannis is the last person who would give up half his kingdom,” Margaery mused. She paused for a moment before addressing Robb again. “Forgive me, my lord,” she said, “I am quite ignorant in matters of politics, but…”

“I think you are far less ignorant about politics than you let on, Lady Margaery,” Robb remarked, and he did give a small smile then, “Or else you would not have uncovered Lord Tywin and Lord Walder’s plot to have me and my armies murdered at a wedding. Please, go ahead.”

Margaery ran her tongue over her lips, slightly taken aback and yet pleasantly surprised. “Well, I was merely wondering if some kind of compromise might not be reached,” she explained, “Would it not be possible for you to keep your title as King in the North, yet swear fealty to the Iron Throne? Or do you think your men and King Stannis would not find that acceptable?”

“I don’t know. In truth, I don’t know King Stannis very well at all,” Robb confessed, “But I could have a word with him about the matter.”

“It would perhaps be best to arrange a formal meeting with him, my lord, surrounded by your councilors and his,” Margaery suggested, “I think you would stand a better chance of convincing him that way. King Stannis takes such matters very seriously.”

Robb gave a small nod. “Thank you, Lady Margaery,” he said earnestly, “I think you may know him better than I do.”

“I am merely an outside observer, my lord,” Margaery said, smiling again, “My impression of him may very well be wrong.”

“Well, I trust yours more than I do mine,” Robb affirmed, adding, “I sincerely wish there was more I could do for you, my lady. If I can convince Stannis to let me return to Winterfell using your advice I believe you will have saved my life twice.”

“With all due respect, you exaggerate, my lord. Besides, you have already done a great deal for me. Were it not for your defending me against King Stannis’s accusations, I’m certain my whole family would have suffered,” Margaery noted, “If Winterfell is where you wish to be then Winterfell is where you should be. I have heard the North is beautiful, though I have never been myself.”

“Perhaps you ought to come with me when I go,” Robb remarked, and Margaery wasn’t sure if it was his words or his smile that made her breath catch in her throat.

“I do not believe King Stannis would ever let me go,” Margaery admitted as Grey Wind finally made his way back over to Robb, “Besides, I would be a little afraid, I think. The North is so far away from home.”

“What could you possibly have to fear? You are more clever than most of the people I know,” Robb said, “But anyway, I shouldn’t be speaking of such matters when nothing is certain yet. I do know that my sister and mother would miss you a great deal if they were to leave, though…and I think Winterfell would be brighter for your presence.”

“You’ve left me speechless, my lord, and I am very rarely speechless,” Margaery admitted, adding teasingly, “You had best go before I embarrass myself further.”

“Aye, my lady,” Robb said, and Margaery wondered if she was imagining it when she saw his face flush slightly, “I hope perhaps we might see each other again soon.”

“I expect we will,” Margaery told him as she watched him make his way out of the godswood with his direwolf by his side.


	7. Cherishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final chapter! Finishing a fic is always bittersweet to me, as saying goodbye to the characters is hard but at the same time you do feel a lovely sense of accomplishment. Thank you all one last time for your feedback, and I really hope you enjoy the conclusion to this story. Robb and Margaery are my favourite ship and I'm certain I'll be writing more of them in the future.

When she had first come to Winterfell close to twenty years ago, Margaery hadn’t imagined she would one day be so happy to watch the man she loved dancing with someone else. The young woman Robb Stark gently spun around looked beautiful in a white dress and delicate tiara that caught the light from the nearby candles each time she moved, and she gave a laugh whenever Robb leant in and whispered something in her ear. She looked as if she was enjoying herself immensely, and for that Margaery was delighted. She had always thought that if one thing could be said about celebrations in Winterfell, it was that everyone always had a thoroughly good time.

“Come dance with me, sweetheart,” Robb’s voice suddenly spoke up, snapping Margaery out of her thoughts, “I can’t promise I won’t embarrass you, but I’ll do my best.” He and his companion had made their way over to her, and he extended his hand while the young woman next to him giggled.

“You always say that,” Margaery teased Robb, then turning to the person by his side, “What am I going to do about your father, Karine?”

“I think you will have to dance with him and prove him wrong yet again, Mama,” Karine Stark replied, a smile playing at the corners of her lips as Margaery could only laugh and agree.

“The two of you looked so wonderful dancing together,” Margaery commented to Karine as Robb helped her to her feet, “I can still scarcely believe you are sixteen years old already, sweetling.”

“I was telling her the very same thing,” Robb admitted, looking fondly at his daughter, “It fills me with joy see the kind, clever, elegant and beautiful young lady she has become.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Karine breathed, her smile only broadening, “And thank you as well, Mama. My gift is beautiful and today’s feast has been perfect.”

“Mama and Papa, please promise you won’t get me a tiara on _my_ sixteenth nameday,” a blur of red hair announced, appearing all of a sudden and stopping only to press a kiss to her mother’s then her father’s cheek.

“You speak as if your mother and I didn’t know you, Julie,” Robb noted, shaking his head a little.

“We wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” Margaery said before instructing her daughter, “I know today’s been an exciting day but please slow down a bit.”

“You might run into someone, Julie,” Karine added, and Julianne Stark nodded after exchanging a smile with her father who looked amused despite himself.

“Karine, I’m almost certain the Cassel boy wants to dance with you,” Julianne commented, giving a giggle as she took Karine’s hands.

“Well, if he wants to dance with me then he can come ask me,” Karine noted, and if she said anything after that Margaery didn’t hear as she was gently led away by her husband.

“Look, Ned, Mama and Papa are going to dance!” a voice piped up from nearby, “They look so elegant when they dance.”

“Aye, they do,” another voice agreed, “One day I hope I can dance as well as Papa.”

“See, my love?” Margaery said to Robb, her tone soft, “All of our children know that you’re just being modest when you say you have no talent for dancing.”

“You are all far too kind to me,” Robb commented, giving Ned and Lyanna Stark a wave as he and his wife circled each other. The two were twins although it was hard to tell now that they were fourteen, their looks over the years having grown to reflect their very distinct personalities. They stood out a little amongst their siblings, however, as being the only two with hair that was a rich brown like their mother’s.

“It’s so odd to have already put Connor to bed at this time,” Margaery mentioned as her hands came to rest on Robb’s shoulders, “I thought it was impossible to tire him out but we seem to have managed it today.”

“Didn’t he say he wanted his next nameday to be as good as Karine’s?” Robb asked, giving a small chuckle, “I’ll tell him to be especially nice to his mother because without her this wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you, sweetheart, for taking care of everything.”

“It was and always will be my pleasure, my love,” Margaery said in return, “Nothing makes me happier than being with our children and being with you. I just hope everyone has eaten and drunk and danced and sung to their heart’s content tonight.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Robb affirmed, grinning then nodding over to his and Margaery’s twins, “Ned and Lyanna look like they’ve enjoyed themselves so much they can barely keep their eyes open.”

“Oh, yes, just look at our poor darlings. We can put the children to bed soon and go to bed ourselves,” Margaery said, adding quietly as she leant in close to her husband, “You look so handsome this evening, my love.”

“And you look beautiful. You always look beautiful,” Robb murmured, leaning in to press his lips to Margaery’s in a loving kiss. Margaery was wearing her crown that evening, as was Robb, and though sometimes it weighed a bit heavy on her head she found that when her husband kissed her she forgot she was wearing it at all.

* * *

When Margaery’s husband took her to bed that night and helped her undress amidst many kisses, she had already been imagining that they wouldn’t be falling asleep for quite some time. She and Robb had each other so often that she thought it somewhat surprising they didn’t have more than five children, and each time felt somehow distinct and different to the last. Sometimes he was her wolf, surprising her with a sudden burning desire and taking her hard enough that the next day she would be able to close her eyes and remember exactly how good he had felt between her legs. On other occasions they would love each other slowly, as though they had all the time in the world, and let their pleasure build together until they both came apart almost at the same time. This occasion felt like a celebration of everything the two of them had accomplished together, and Robb’s kisses were equally tender and passionate as Margaery situated herself on top of him, guiding their movements and kissing him back just as fervently. He slid a hand between them to the sweet spot he knew she loved to have touched, and Margaery screamed as her pleasure overtook her. When she fell back against the featherbed not long afterwards, feeling Robb’s seed within her, it was with a sigh of deep satisfaction. She nestled against her husband and let her breathing settle while his arm wrapped around her, making her feel safe and secure as Robb always did.

“Our Karine is sixteen years old…gods, sometimes it feels like yesterday that you gave birth to her,” Robb murmured absently after they’d been lying in silence for a little while, “I still remember holding her in my arms and thinking I had never seen anything so small and so perfect in my life.”

“I remember. You had the look of a man falling in love,” Margaery remarked softly, giving a smile, “I’m so proud of our daughter…of all our children. I wish sometimes we had been blessed with more.”

“I would not have minded more,” Robb admitted with a chuckle, “But the gods have been very good to us.”

“Aye, they have,” Margaery agreed, pressing a kiss to Robb’s shoulder, “And you have been good to accept their blessings. I remember a young man who was so afraid to let himself love again.”

“I remember a young woman who brought light into my life when there was none,” Robb whispered, taking one of his wife’s hands in his own, “I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve saved my life, Margaery.”

“You must stop with such nonsense,” Margaery told him gently, “I wouldn’t have a life were it not for you. I might have a crown, I might have sons and daughters…but I wouldn’t have joy, I wouldn’t have love.”

Robb rolled over slightly so he could look Margaery in the eyes, and her words made him break into a broad smile. When Margaery had first met him his smile had tended to appear slowly on his face, almost as if it didn’t quite belong there. Now, however, it always seemed to come so naturally and effortlessly that once it was there it became difficult to imagine him being serious. “I love you, Margaery. I don’t feel close to forty years old when I’m with you,” he admitted in a murmur, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“I love you, Robb,” Margaery murmured back, “With you I do not feel my age, either. I feel we somehow reclaim the years of our youth that the war took from us…from you most of all.”

“Sometimes I do worry for our children, though,” Robb confessed, “They have only ever known peace. I don’t know if we can ever prepare them for what might happen should war come to Westeros again.”

“Could your parents ever have prepared you?” Margaery questioned, “All we can do is our best, my love. All we can do is live each day.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Robb agreed, bringing up her hand that he was still holding to press a kiss there, “And we can teach them to be brave. We can teach them there is no shame in fear, but you cannot let it control you.”

“I’m sure they’ll learn that by example. They’ll learn from you,” Margaery told Robb just before closing the small distance between them and kissing him again.

Margaery sometimes wondered if some wounds could ever heal entirely, and if it was ever possible to completely forget the pain of the past. Privately she didn’t think so, but she didn’t believe that to necessarily be a bad thing. There was no changing what had already happened. Her husband was the man he was because of everything he had experienced, and she loved him and felt loved in return for everything that she was. Whenever she settled against Robb’s chest and felt him breathing and kissed over his heart, she felt certain that when the gods came to take her someday she would have no regrets.

“You save my life every day, Robb,” she whispered just before she closed her eyes.


End file.
